#dbh reader

totally wear couple costumes with you at Halloween

and the best part? Not store bought ones but he would defintly sit at home and make them himself with Hanks and your help

you two would go out at Halloween. As adults it might be harder to go Trick‘n’Treating but there are a few folks that give them out to you two.

The police station does a party and you two win the competition of who got the best costume.

Sumo will totally be getting a fitting costume too. And Hank? Can‘t save himself either so it kibd of becomes a group thing.

Pairing: Luther x Reader

Words: 786

Warnings: Nothing but fluff and wistfulness

A/N: To celebrate my new blog, how about some Luther goodness that no one asked for, but I couldn’t help but write? I absolutely adore the big, soft android, and there’s not nearly enough content for him. Let’s add this to the roster, shall we?

Where you initially came from, snow wasn’t a very common thing.

The first time you properly saw snow fall outside of cheesy Christmas movies, you had been roughly sixteen, the season on the cusp of turning toward spring. The temperature had dropped with a cold front, and later that evening, what everyone had expected to be rain had, instead, come down in fluffy tufts of snow. It didn’t stick to the ground fully, so there hadn’t been much to build a snowman or make snow angels, but finally seeing it in person, falling from the sky and glistening in what little light surrounded you, was a memory you would never forget.

Now, even after a year of living in Canada, watching the snow fall was still such a surreal moment, one that you never tired of.

Connor: (Mimics a purring cat)

(Connor x Reader)

(Happy Endings Alt.)

It had been days since that night, since your stupid actions had caused the mess that was now your life. You had decided that the best possible course of action was to discuss working from home with Captain Fowler, something that he actually agreed to; on serious cases you had to go to the scene of the crime, which you did anyway. You prefer being on scene at all times.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and slowly you hurt less and less. Gavin became a close friend of yours, eventually asking for a date. You agreed, but later you both decided you were better as friends and he ended up dating Forensic Detective Jones, or Tiffany as she prefered to be called. It was coming up December, two months after the fateful incident and you were getting better. Though, the holidays were an awful time to be alone. You would find yourself constantly watching couples with a weight in your chest. A Connor shaped hole filled with the stones of sadness. 

You strolled through central park a week before Christmas, gazing at all of the beautiful lights. They had truly outdone themselves this year, the park was lit up with soft copper lights, the trees were vibrant under the soft glow of the beautiful lights. The snow that had begun falling the day before glowed in the same lights, like a billion tiny diamonds scattered upon the earth. Although it was freezing, the scene filled you with warmth, the beauty of it all helping to brighten your spirits. This was perfect.

You sat on a wooden bench that gazed out onto the frozen water of the lake, watching people skate gleefully along the pristine ice. You sipped on the hot coco you had bought at a nearby vendor, letting the smooth liquid keeping your still body warm in the weather that raged around it. Peaceful. 

A man sat beside you, his curly hair falling upon his forehead, his eyes also locked on the ice and skaters that occupied it. He seemed familiar, but because he was turned away from you slightly you shook it off as mere coincidence. You only really knew your coworkers in Detroit and most of them were hard at work at the station. That and you weren’t certain who it was, you only took a quick peek at them afterall.

The stranger turned towards you, staring at you intently, which caused you to glance up at him. You were stunned when you saw a mildly disheveled, yet somehow well put together Connor. He looked stressed, upset and... Guilty? You scanned his face with your eyes, noticing the glow of his LED was absent.

Strange, that can’t be right.

“C-Connor?” The moment your voice broke he leapt at you, scooping you into his large, safe and warm arms. His hands ran along your back, his face was pressed into your hair. He was shaking and taking large, shaky breaths. You were confused, torn and yet, somehow, relieved. You felt liquid drop onto your cheeks and realised, he was crying. 

“I found you, I finally found you. I heard rumors you skipped town, I heard that you were with Gavin! No one would tell me anything that was going on with you and it scared me, but you’re here and you’re safe. You’re with me. You didn’t leave.” He was frantic, eyes wide and hands careful. 

He was... different?

“Connor, what happened?” You whispered, stroking his palm to try and relieve his nerves somewhat. “I thought I lost you, I thought that you hated me and I’m sorry! God, (Y/n), I made a mistake, I was scared when you kissed me. Now I realise...” He stopped, staring at you intently, as if he was drinking in every detail of your face. Savouring each and every crease, line, freckle, hair. Saving it to memory.

“Realise what? Connor?” You snapped your fingers and he grabbed your hand, pulling it to his chest, placing it flat against it. You could feel his thirium pump beating hard, it was a solid rhythm that only faltered once you looked up into his eyes. “Now I realise that you make this beat, every second of every day. When you left, something changed. I-I knew, I just knew that it was you, you changed me; you became my everything. I breathed for you, I felt for you, I- Fuck- I love you. I’ll say it everyday, I’ll scream it if I must, I love you (Y/n).” You froze, he was a mess, but he was your mess if you wanted him; so you did the only thing you could in that moment, you nodded. You were in complete shock, so that was your only reaction that seemed to make some sense.

With that nod Connor took your face into his gentle hands and kissed you, stroking your skin tenderly and holding you against him with care. You felt electric, it was if someone had lit a thousand fireworks inside you, you were filled with pure joy and Love. “I’m sorry I made you wait, I’m sorry I didn’t discover that my real mission, the most important one, had been with you all along.” He stroked your hair, his chocolate eyes were locked with yours and were brimming with passion and absolute adoration.  “You’re a deviant Connor.”

“Deviancy is worth everything, if I get spend every second of it with you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

_______________________________________________________________

 Well hey, second post for today!  I’m sorry I made you guys sad last time, so here is your nice happy resolution!

(Do you still wanna see the sad af one? Or no?)

REMEMBER: RP and REQUESTS are OPEN! ALSO: Asks are open with: Gavin Connor Carter (rk900) Narri (Meee~)

and.....

HANK!

characters: RK900(dbh) x human fem!reader, Gavin Reed

warning(s): Graphic language

word count: 2,287 words

A/N: I am SO sorry this took so long, I know this update is kind of out of nowhere! A lot of things have been happening in my life and trust me, you don’t want to know. But ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy part two! Hopefully I’ll be more active and getting back into the swing of things. Thank you guys so much for your patience. <3

Part One 

Time seemed to pass far too slowly as the hours dragged on; Hank reminded you for the third time that you didn’t have to be here, but there was no way in hell that you were leaving him to deal with this on his own. You knew Hank was more than capable of taking care of himself, but the thought of him going out on a case with no one to watch his back that he could really, truly trust? You couldn’t do that, even if being here was dredging up things you wish you could just forget. Although you dared not sneak another glance in the RK900’s direction, you were hyper aware of his cool eyes trained on you with laser focus; he was analyzing you. Studying you. Observing your every movement. After all, neither you nor Hank had said a word to him or given him any task to perform, it was the perfect opportunity to familiarize himself with you both. This was the fourteenth time you’d threaded your fingers through your hair, the eleventh time Lieutenant Anderson had heaved out a heavy sigh. It would not have taken a highly advanced prototype to see that the both of you were on edge, and while the RK900 only knew what information was necessary concerning what had occurred with his predecessor, he had already worked out that it had been a particularly traumatic experience. Neither of you could bear to look him in the eye, and the rest of the department stole sideways glances and shared hushed whispers that they didn’t think he could hear. He could. “I can’t believe the captain assigned that thing to Hank again.” “Especially after what it did to [Y/N].” The RK900’s gaze darted back towards you. What had the previous Connor model done to you that he had not done to Lieutenant Anderson? For only the briefest of moments, he considered asking, but his social relations program warned him that doing so may result in the damaging of an already tense relationship, and so he refrained. All that he had been told was that the RK800 had attempted to neutralize his human associates when he perceived that they were interfering with his mission. His commitment to completing his mission had not been faulty, he recalled Amanda explaining this to him just before his deployment. In the grand scheme of things, the lives of two humans mattered very little when compared to the importance of putting an end to the deviancy crisis. But CyberLife did not wish to risk damaging their affiliation with the Detroit Police Department; their cooperation was imperative in helping stop the deviancy crisis once and for all, and their resources were a true asset. Therefore, decommissioning the RK800 series was a necessary, yet temporary, setback. It took very little time for CyberLife to presumably fix the errors the RK800 series had exhibited, creating the RK900 series using resources that they already had as well as newly acquired technology. He was better than the RK800 series in every conceivable way, and yet.. A sudden shift in your weight drew him out of his thoughts, and he watched as you slipped off the edge of Lieutenant Anderson’s desk, raising your arms above your head to stretch out your aching muscles; his LED swirled a diligent yellow as he watched. “I’m getting a coffee,” you announced, though he knew you were addressing your uncle, and not the RK900 himself. “want one?” “Sure,” came the gruff response, though he didn’t bother to glance up from his work, perhaps not wanting to risk accidentally making eye contact with the android across from him. “I could get it for you.” Both of pairs of human eyes snapped over towards the RK900 as if surprised, though he could not imagine why; his own pale eyes shifted between the both of you as you turned to glance at one another. As if neither one of you heard his offer, Hank’s gaze darted back down to the scattered papers, and you stiffly turned on your heel, retreating to the break room without another word. The android’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched you go. Yes.. he was better than the RK800 series in every conceivable way, and yet.. it was clear to him that you could only see his predecessor when you looked at him. Although you were far from out of the RK900’s line of sight, you were relieved to be out from under his scrutinizing gaze, if only for a short while. Your hands pressed into the counter as you leaned against it, allowing your tired eyes to slip shut momentarily as the coffee brewed. The way he looked at you reminded you of Connor for what you were sure would not be the last time; he was trying to learn you, to figure you out as though you were some complicated equation that desperately needed solving. That’s all that you’d been to Connor, and once he’d figured you out, he used you to get to Hank, to ensure that his mission went smoothly. You had gotten too comfortable with who you had thought Connor was-- you could have never known that by admitting that you thought destroying the deviants was morally wrong, he would consider you a possible interference. You should have kept him at arm's length; you should have known that he wasn’t like other androids. You should have- “You alright?” Your eyes snapped open and your head shot upwards, turning to meet the pale blue eyes of a familiar detective, and not one you liked all too well. “I don’t really care, but you’re in front of the coffee machine and I’m just wondering how long your breakdown is going to last.” “Shut the fuck up, Gavin.” His lips twisted upwards into a smug, mocking smile as he took a step nearer to you, prompting you to step back in disgust, not wishing to have him anywhere near you. Nonchalantly, he stopped the coffee you had been brewing half-way, pouring it into a cheap styrofoam cup, and speaking all the while he did so. “I saw that Fowler assigned that bucket of bolts back to your uncle. It’s kind of fucked up when you think about it.” You watched in silence as he lifted the cup to his haggard face, pausing to smell the dark roast before taking a tentative sip. “I mean, we all know how you felt about the first one.” Your hands balled into fists as he seemed to appraise the coffee, before carelessly dumping it out into the nearby sink with a shrug; if looks could kill, Gavin would absolutely be six feet under. “I don’t like this kind.” “What do you want?” You muttered under your breath, your voice dangerously low. You were in no mood to deal with Gavin’s little mind games, and the way he turned to smirk at you made it clear that he hadn’t come here for coffee; he came to gloat. “What’s the matter, did I strike a nerve?” When you only clenched your jaw and glared daggers at him, he shrugged easily, holding his hands up, palms facing you. “I’m just saying it’s messed up is all. Do you think he still remembers everything? Maybe he’s just biding his time and will actually finish the job this time around.” His voice sounded mockingly optimistic as he said this. Although you shouldn’t have been shocked by this, you felt a sting of disbelief when you realized that he meant that he hoped the RK900 would actually kill you and your uncle this time. Part of you wondered if he actually meant that, or if he was just trying to get under your skin; regardless, you were seething.

As you opened your mouth, perhaps to say something you might have regretted (then again, perhaps not), a third voice interrupted you, cutting you off. “Is there a situation here?” Every muscle in your body seized, ice running through your veins at the unprecedented closeness of Connor’s replacement; you could scarcely breathe. The RK900 stood at your side and narrowed his pale eyes on Gavin, overlooking you momentarily in favor of staring the detective down. The man arched his eyebrows, wholly unconcerned by the android’s sudden appearance; in fact, he seemed to find it amusing as he looked between you and prototype. “Not at all.” he replied smoothly, his eyes drifting across across the android; sizing him up. The RK900 only watched him curiously, canting his head to one side. “And even if there was, it’d be none of your fucking business, tin man.” “I would have to disagree, Detective. Hank Anderson is my business, and by extension, so is Miss [Y/L/N]. I would be appreciative if you did not antagonize her.”

Gavin laughed; it was a bitter, hollow sound that put you on edge, and the android at your side seemed to notice your sudden apprehension. He peered over at you, momentarily forgetting Gavin; instead, he observed your uncertain visage, your barely parted lips and wide eyes. “You’d be appreciative, huh?” The detective repeated mockingly, and before you could even think to warn the android that he shouldn’t have taken his eyes off Gavin, the man’s hands shot forwards. He gathered up the fabric of the RK900’s coat into tight fists, jerking him downwards to meet his gaze; the LED on his temple circled red despite his unimpressed countenance.

“That’s enough, Gavin, let him go!” You hissed, the words shooting past your lips before you could stop them; you reached out to grab the one of the man’s sleeves in some feeble attempt to pull him off of the android. Perhaps the part of you that still cared for Connor, despite what he had done, drove you to defend his replacement. Some small, weak part that you hated, that you wished had died when Connor had. As much as you could barely stand to look at the RK900, you were still helpless against him.

It disgusted you.

“Listen here, you plastic fuck.” He spat, completely ignoring your demands to let the RK900 go. “No android is going to tell me what I can and cannot do, do you understand me? Or do I have to beat it into that thick fucking skull of yours?”

“For God’s sake Gavin, just let him go.”

The RK900 only watched Gavin with total disinterest, his eyes half-lidded in an almost condescendingly unconcerned expression. For one long, tense moment, the detective glared up at the prototype, and you thought for a moment that perhaps he was going to attack him, but without warning, Gavin’s hands were finally releasing his black and white jacket, wrenching his own sleeve out of your grasp; he chuckled breathily, as though it had all been some kind of elaborate prank, before shaking his head and taking few steps backwards. “They didn’t change a goddamn thing about you, did they? You can polish a turd, but it’s still a piece of shit.” Turning away swiftly, Gavin’s footfalls carried him just a bit outside the break room, but then he paused, glancing over his shoulder briefly. “[Y/N], I’d watch my back if I were you.” Then, he continued on until he was out of sight.

You knew it wasn’t that Gavin cared; he didn’t care about anything other than himself and his career, you really didn’t think he was capable of caring about anyone else. He just wanted you to be afraid, and despite knowing that… you were. The truth was, you were afraid of the RK900; it didn’t matter if CyberLife said they fixed the errors and fitted him with the newest technology. At the end of the day, he was still a deviant hunter, and you still thought the deviants should be left alone. He was still dangerous… maybe even more so than Connor ever had been.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes snapped upwards to the android in question; his almost silvery irises watched you cautiously, his LED having shifted back to a preoccupied gold; he was scanning you, checking your vitals you were sure. You had thought it was sweet when Connor had done it, because you thought his concern for your well-being had come from a place of genuine care. Really, though, it had been out of necessity and convenience; if you had been unwell, it would have slowed him down. Knowing Connor’s replacement was doing the same left a bad taste in your mouth, to say the least.

“Just leave me alone.” You retorted harshly, eyes narrowing in disdain. “I don’t need your help.” With that, you left the replacement and returned to your uncle empty-handed, but he didn’t seem to mind or even ask why you hadn’t gotten the coffee you had left for to begin with.

The RK900 remained where you had left him, canting his head ever so slightly to the side with a thoughtfully knitted brow. Despite your apparent abhorrence to his presence here, you had attempted to defend him from Detective Reed, and he was beginning to create theories as to why, exactly. From all the information he had gathered, it seemed to the newest prototype that you and Lieutenant Anderson had been quite fond of the RK800, but that he had betrayed that fondness by attempting to take the both of you out. You, the RK900 hypothesised, had been closest to Connor, and perhaps you had just as much as trouble separating your anger and hurt from the RK900 as you did your previous admiration. Curious, he thought, watching you plant yourself up on Lieutenant Anderson’s desk once more, threading your fingers through your hair for the fifteenth time.

Very curious.

Taglist;

SOOOO this is a gift for @the-darklings , she’s a very talented writer and avid lover of our homeboy Connor

Hope you enjoy it! 

———

A crew of DPD’s finest was sitting in Sterling Liquor, a bar a few streets down from the station, gathering for their “drinking party”. Ever since Hank was put back on his feet by the ever caring RK800 android, people in the station found him to be an actually fun drinking buddy; thus began this little weekly tradition a year after the revolution.

Of course, Hank had to have Connor with him on these little bouts to drive him and any other highly intoxicated members of the gang home in the wee hours of the morning. The detective android didn’t like his friend drinking at all, but his above average alcohol intake at home was significantly decreased since the outings, so Connor decided that he’d take this necessary evil. Regardless, Connor liked coming to these gatherings as they made him feel more part of the team, despite his lack of drinking abilities. The officers and detectives he sees every day in the station seemed more relaxed in the bars, the alcohol doing its job and the fear of Captain Fowler’s breathing down their necks gone.    

But Connor especially liked coming to these outings because he could see you.

Tonight was no different from when he first met you those many months ago. The DPD crew gathered around a point in the long stretch of the bar while you worked behind it, a sight so beautiful to the android detective. Your hair was pulled back into a loose bun, the fly-away hairs gently resting on a long, unblemished neck, and tonight you wore only a fitted black tank top. Connor noticed the increase in the bar’s temperature with all the extra bodies in it, and he silently thanked human biology for being so sensitive to temporal changes.

As you continued filling out orders from the crew members, Connor slipped onto a stool nearby, calculating you’d see him in less than 3 minutes, betting that your time as being a bartender would make you very observant on any new patron.

It took two minutes before you flicked your eyes around, scanning the bar, and landing on Connor.

Calculations successful.

You gave the android a broad smile, continuing to pour a drink very dramatically with a lift of an arm. Connor focused in, catching how the sweat from working made your shoulders glisten and a few of those fly-aways plastered themselves to the back of your neck. A warm buzz came over the android’s body as the thought of placing open mouth kisses where the strands sat.

While these thoughts weren’t uncommon whenever he came to the bar with his friends, it still didn’t stop him from being a little bit surprised each time they did come up. Little by little, Connor had come to realize that deviancy cut across all protocols in his repertoire, causing new pathways of thoughts, feelings, and wants in his systems. The strong pull of want hadn’t really applied to Connor until he met you; the electric buzz under his skin so hard to ignore each time you swiftly worked the bar and talked up the patrons just so they could buy one more drink.

“HANK,” Officer Miller’s shout in the loud interior shoved Connor from his thoughts, “you should know this song!”

The lieutenant pointed a finger at the officer, beer still in hand, “I’m not that old, you dipshit.”

Connor tilted his head, processing the rustic acoustic melody that came out smooth from the surrounding speakers.

… searching …  

Hotel California, Eagles 1977

The android smiled to himself, you’re old enough Hank, while quickly scanning the group, making sure everyone was still in the vicinity. The lieutenant refused to join in Detective Reed’s tequila shot challenge, instead chose to watch the younger coworkers dig themselves a deeper hole for the next morning with a knowing smile on his face.

“Once again,” the purr of your voice caught Connor’s attention immediately, “they make the android the designated driver.”

In turning to face you, it never failed to amaze Connor on how striking you were. You’d decided to lean forward on the counter, arms crossed, and fingers fidgeting with a coaster; and in mere milliseconds, Connor analyzed everything that his eyes could lay on. Your body temperature was raised, heartbeat increased, and a slight blush ran from your cheeks and down your neck. The dilation in your pupils  The fly-aways around your head caught the soft yellow light behind you from the shelves of liquor, creating a halo effect, and sharpened your features.

There she stood in the doorway;

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself

'This could be heaven or this could be Hell'

“It’s only logical,” Connor picked up this small dance you two seemed to play, “and only considerate of me.”  

You grinned, fingers starting to twirl the coaster in slow, lazy circles, “I should develop a blue blood cocktail for you, it would be the considerate thing for me to do.”  

Connor’s systems whirred, taking in every little feature of your smile. He knew quite well that as a bartender, you had to be charismatic to entice the patrons to buy more drinks and get more tips. But there was something different in the way you spoke with Connor, more playful and open to the android while being mysterious, leaving him wanting to come back for more.

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

You got up from your position, being called away to make another round for another group. The sway in your hips made the android mesmerized, jeans hugging all the right curves that Connor didn’t know he found so alluring until a month ago.

“Y’know,” Connor whipped his head around to find the lieutenant standing next to him, “I decided to drink light tonight so you wouldn’t have to worry about getting me home and spend more time focusing on our pretty gal.”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow for a second and Hank caught it.

“Oh please,” Hank snorted as he took another swig, “anyone can see you got the hots for her. Catch you later, kid.”

Before the android could even create an answer, Hank moved back to sit with the rest of the crew, a few of the older members singing to the song. The systems in Connor’s head were moving ten thousand miles a minute as he realized new scenarios unlocked at that moment. Does he stay at the bar? Go back home with Hank to make sure he’s alright? Would you even consider a date with him?

Connor’s LED continued to flicker yellow as he considered all his options and took out his coin to help him think. The small object ran smoothly from one knuckle to the next, the rise and fall of the electric guitar in the song helped him retreat further into his mind to recreate these thousands upon thousands of scenarios that could go on as the night progressed.

But movement caught his eye before he could go any farther.

From behind the bar, you were swaying as you poured drinks and your empty hand tapped the beat of the song against the counter. Turning to grab a different glass and bottle, Connor could see your lips slightly working, mouthing the words to the song.

Mirrors on the ceiling,

The pink champagne on ice

And she said, 'we are all just prisoners here, of our own device'

The android continued to watch you, drinking in every detail of how your mouth moved to the song, the way your hips popped to the side with the drum, and the small smile that grew as you heard a particularly good lyric.

'We are programmed to receive.

You can check out any time you like,

But you can never leave!'

Just as the lyrics ended, your eyes caught sight of Connor, LED flickering erratically from blue to yellow as he watched you with smoldering, dark eyes. It was like he was hungry.

Connor’s systems cooled, and he knew what he had to do as you sauntered back to your place in front of him on the counter.

“When do you get off?” Connor asked, LED flickering yellow.

Pairing: Connor RK800 x Reader Requested: Writing prompt #3 with Connor and reader??? / Requested by ANON A/N: This is my first Detroit fic, so any feedback is appreciated and I hope y’all enjoy it! Requests are still open for now :) JUST to clarify this is v diff from usual style of writing, alcohol and the killers inspired this <3

Music that preludes at least 30 decades before them echoes through the room. Sliding between conversations, officers and detectives alike all tapping their feet with a slight slur. The unrelenting beat dancing like fond memories between couples and friends. The air, heavy with alcohol and sweat gives the faintest sensation of relief.

At least to some.

In the far corner Connor doesn’t find himself swaying to the music, or locking hands on the dancefloor like everybody else seemed to be doing. Instead he finds himself watching those that are. Frowning only to himself at the carelessness in their movements as they let themselves move freely, their bodies choosing each erratic movement. No thought. No process. No overthinking. Simply Being.

Even now that he was considered deviant he found it hard to simply allow his body to be. Working with his own presence he still found himself hovering by people, lingering a second too close. Y/N had once told him he could try being more spontaneous. He’d disagreed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was more he didn’t know how. There was nothing anywhere that seemed helpful in the decision to be spontaneous. He’d even asked Hank to no avail, he’d simply called it ironic.

But stood on the edge of the dancefloor frequented by the DPD, watching them collide effortlessly made him almost envy them. Or in particular, Officer Miller and his dancing beside Y/N. Each step with the beat she reciprocates, her arms moving fluidly as the glimmer of her dress catches on every light. Each look between them he feels himself flinching, a sudden impatience for it to stop.

For a second he considers striding over to them. Interrupting in a perhaps selfish desire to sate a feeling he couldn’t quite trust. But the spotlights ahead blind him, dim and patterned they spin across the dancefloor, and he’s sure that even

hesitate on her as his heart seems to skip a beat. A malfunction he doesn’t want to correct.

In the moment, he sees her shaking her head to the songs, her soft lips parted as she drunkenly sings with the song. The light clinging to her skin, as centuries of artists desire hang in the shadows across her face. The history of an art he suddenly yearns to learn, painted in the strokes of her off beat dancing.

“Ohh” Hank says, his voice smug with recognition as he takes his place beside Connor. “I get it now.”

Connor turns slightly, reluctant to look away. As if Miller would make a move in his absence. “Get what now, Lieutenant?”

“Why you insisted we stop by this ridiculous party.”

“I insisted as this party is a celebration of your achievements. Officer Y/L/N asked me personally to ensure you attended.”

Hank lets out a small scoff. Taking a sip from his bottle as nods to the music. Even if he’d have preferred to spend the night watching a repeat of some show with Sumo by his side. He would admit she’d done her homework. The music was to his taste, albeit not heavy, just nostalgic. The booze was free. And there seemed to be only the cops he liked.

Connor looks back to Y/N, her and officer Miller now at a standstill as she’s led from the dancefloor. His hand holding hers. Connor finds himself mentally spitting his name, a wave of something not quite nausea hitting him as he forces himself to keep watching, Unsure of why it’s even upsetting him.

The two of them talking closer and closer, Miller fumbling in his pocket and lighting the cigarette he pulls from it, offering it first to Y/N. Taking a drag she leans in closer. A hand on his shoulder. Once again Connor winces, this time looking away. Frowning hard as he tries to figure out why it’s bothering him so much. Letting out a small exhale and crossing his arms, he catches Hanks smug grin looking down at him. Finally understanding the human expression of a shit-eating grin.

“Why don’t you go ask her to dance? You know instead of just watching her and looking all jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, Lieutenant.”

“Connor, if your little disk thing could flash green, it damn well would be.” He points the neck of his bottle to the LED on Connors temple. Taking a heavy swig before calling out. “Y/N!”

Connor lets out a slight gasp, his eyes wide in horror as he watches her turn to her name. An excited grin spreading across her lips. Instantly feeling weak, the lightness in his head seems to increase as he holds his breath. Watching as she makes her way over. Forgetting that he has yet to protest Hanks actions.

But before he can he’s wrapped in Y/Ns arms. Caught in the overwhelming scent of her perfume. Caught in her warmth and the pull on his neck as she reaches up. Every sense working double as he tries to capture this exact feeling, every desire he has to lose his inhibitions. And as his slender fingers touch her back, his mind goes blank. Seeing only her, the warmth of her stolen her dress. As quick as his horror had faded, she was gone. Her words ringing in his ears as he struggled to process them.

“I can’t believe you actually got him to come.” She smiles at Connor, letting out a small laugh as she nudges him gently. “Are you both enjoying the party?”

“You did a helluva job Y/N. Only office party they’ve managed to get me to come to yet.” He winks to her, bringing the bottle to his lips. Tipping the contents back and expertly finishing it. “Oh would you look at that. I’m all out.”

He hold out the empty bottle as if evidence, Connor instantly steps forward and reaches for it. “I can get you another-” His offer and eager smile is cut off as Hank shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder before sauntering away.

Leaving Connor with nothing but the feel of a dry mouth. Swallowing harshly as he looks to her. Her eyes, bright in the glimpses of light, look to him expectantly. Lost for words, he stumbles.

“You really did do a great job with the party.”

“Thanks, Connor. It’s really nothing though. All you need for cops is to get booze, shitty music, and don’t invite the assholes from the office.” She lists them off on her fingers, giving a small shrug.

“Yes, I did notice the absence of Detective Reed.”

Y/N laughs, loud and uncaring. Connor meeting her grin with a smile of his own. He was sure that he’d never smiled as much as these past few moments. Simply watching her as though he was learning his own humour for the first time. Pride swelling in his smile.

As her laughter dies down, a silences settles between them. Connor shifting uncomfortably as his dark eyes drop to the floor. Trying hard to find ways to fill the silence. Looking up as Y/N clears her throat.

“You like dancing.” He states, his cheeks now holding a blue tinge.

“I guess. It’s definitely more fun with alcohol.”

“I could get you a drink?” He suggests, Y/N shaking her head.

“I’m good. We could dance though?” She suggests, nodding her head towards the dancefloor. “You know together.”

He drops his gaze once more, watching the fluid movements of the people filling the dancefloor. They were clunky, drunk, but uncaring. Even if they weren’t what anybody would consider good dancers. He could already see the difference between their movements and what he would give.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to dance.” He admits, watching her as he expects her to move away. Instead she just giggles, stepping closer and taking his hand.

He looks to their joint hands, glad that he cannot sweat like they do.

“Connor, nobody here can dance. They’re cops.” She pauses as Connor’s hand pulls across the curve of her back.  A certain kind of adrenaline rushing through her as she speaks. “If you can’t dance that only means you’re fitting in perfectly. So…congrats on becoming a full time cop” She trails off, pulling him with her as he follows after her. Connor aware of every set of eyes watching them.

Androids, humans, people he cared about. Their eyes watching him as if each movement was deviant. But he couldn't find time enough to care? Instead he was swept into their moment. The rush that came with Y/N’s leg brushing on his own, the pride that seemed to swell with having every person know that she was dancing with

Heya , I'm new to Detroit become human shenanigans but I've written for almost all fandoms now so do not be afraid to shoot an imagine my way.

I literally do any kind of writing.